


love a man out of uniform

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Kink Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, M/M, Riding, Roleplay, Uniform Kink, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: Stiles looks good in everything, especially in his deputy's uniform. And as fate would have it, Derek might have a bit of a uniform kink. Good thing Stiles always keeps a pair of handcuffs on hand.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowlhunters](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shadowlhunters).



> For the kink prompt: sterek + handcuffs!!!

Stiles looked good in everything.

He looked good in his graphic tees and ridiculous flannels and his signature red hoodie, wearing faded blue jeans with holes in the knees. He looked good in his old maroon Cyclones jersey, twenty four emblazoned in white block letters on the knit mesh fabric.

He looked good in his cap and gown when he graduated with honors from Berkeley, summa cum laude cords hanging around his neck as he received his diploma and posed for pictures with the dean. He looked good in pajamas, sprawled out on the couch like a cat in the sun on lazy Sunday mornings, inevitably falling asleep and drooling all over himself while watching old cartoons.

He looked good in Derek's gray Henley whenever he borrowed it, either sleeping in it or just wearing it around the loft to soak up Derek's scent. He looked good in nothing at all, lounging stretched out naked in his and Derek's bed, smooth skin on display against the stark white sheets.

But he looked amazing in his uniform.

It fit him absolutely beautifully, like a second skin, outlining his broad shoulders and giving him an unmistakable air of authority. The short sleeves showed off his leanly muscled arms, his biceps toned from his daily workouts with Derek and the rest of the pack, and the light dusting of dark hair on his forearms. The tan button up clung to his tapered waist, dark brown trousers accentuating his long, lithe legs, heavy boots giving him a little more height.

He looked breathtaking admiring his reflection in the mirror in the morning, freshly polished deputy's badge shining on his chest as he fussed with hair, trying to make himself look as professional as possible. He even looked gorgeous after yet another long, late night shift, dark circles beginning to form beneath his eyes, hair slightly disheveled, uniform shirt already untucked and unbuttoned a bit to reveal the hollow of his throat and a flash of collarbone.

Derek had to bite his lip to keep from blurting out a filthy litany of demands for Stiles to fuck him, digging his claws into his palms to keep himself from physically jumping his boyfriend when Stiles leaned down for a quick, chaste _welcome home_ kiss, gently cupping Derek's cheek and greeting, "Hey, babe."

Stiles took a seat at the foot of their bed, groaning softly when his backside met the luxuriously soft, pillowy mattress Derek had splurged for when Stiles had moved in with him. He slowly raised his foot, rested his ankle on his knee, and began carefully unlacing his boots, tugging them off and neatly arranging them on the floor by the foot of the bed.

He peeled his black socks off, flinging them across the room where they landed in the laundry hamper, sparing a moment to fist pump in victory. He massaged the soles of his feet for a bit, digging his thumbs into the knots at the balls of his feet, letting out a soft sigh of relief.

Derek watched with rapt interest as Stiles stood with another groan and stretched his arms above his head, shirt riding up to show off his belt and a tantalizing flash of pale skin at this waist. He twisted to crack the joints in his back, his keys jingling on his belt, drawing Derek’s eyes to his handcuffs, nestled snugly in their leather holster on Stiles’ left hip.

Ugh. This wasn’t fair.

Stiles usually changed at the station after his shifts before coming home, always returning to their apartment in his hoodie and jeans, sometimes sweatpants. But never this, never in his uniform.

Derek swallowed heavily, twisting his hands in the comforter spread over his lap, angling his legs to the side to hide his sudden, straining erection, hoping his cheeks weren’t as flushed as they felt. He knew damn well that if Stiles ever found out about his recently realized uniform kink, he would never, ever live it down.

But how could he resist?

Stiles looked so tantalizing in his perfectly starched uniform, like a fine, upstanding pillar of the community, so much so that Derek had to actively restrain himself from bending Stiles over the kitchen sink and thoroughly wrecking him whenever Stiles kissed him goodbye in the morning, grabbing a pop tart on his way out the door. He looked so buttoned up and professional, like a perfect little goody two-shoes a big bad wolf like himself should most definitely corrupt.

He was torn from his reverie, that was quickly becoming pornographic, as Stiles’ long cool fingers brushed over his cheek, scratching through his stubble as he chuckled softly.

“What’s got you so red?” Stiles inquired, cocking his head to the side with a sly grin. He had moved further up the bed to sit at Derek’s hip, leaning over him and smiling radiantly. When Stiles’ words finally registered, Derek realized he was blushing, feeling his ears burn as he thought about how sweet Stiles’ moans would sound echoing in their kitchen. “Hmm…?”

Derek could feel himself blush even harder, face flushing with more heat at having been caught gawking like some horny teenager. Jokingly, Stiles teased, “What? My uniform do it for you?”

Derek froze, becoming stock still beneath Stiles’ palm who was laughing at his own joke, hands reflexively tightening their grip on the edge of the blanket. Noticing Derek’s less than amused reaction, Stiles immediately stopped laughing to ask what was the matter, his lips already forming the words when his eyes widened exponentially in realization and he trailed off.

“Oh my god!” Stiles gasped, instead, eyebrows climbing up to his hairline. Derek clenched his eyes shut, terrified of the rejection and judgement he was sure to see on Stiles’ face, scared of how disgusting Stiles must think he was. “Fuck. That’s so hot.”

Wait, what?

“Wha…?” Derek asked intelligently, eyes springing wide open to stare at Stiles incredulously, not believing his own ears. Stiles nodded eagerly, biting his plump bottom lip, looking like a little kid on Christmas morning. He clumsily climbed into Derek’s lap, straddling his hips while excitedly running his palms over Derek’s almost already bare chest, breezing over his pecs and brushing through his chest hair. Derek gingerly anchored his hands on Stiles’ hips and offered a tentative smile.

“Dude, you totally have a thing for me in uniform. That’s so awesome!” Stiles crowed, smirking in smug satisfaction, trailing his thumbs over the straps of Derek’s white tank top. Derek rolled his eyes, letting out a soft laugh under his breath, the laugh catching in his throat, breath hitching, when Stiles began gyrating his hips, grinding down on Derek’s erection through the comforter, looking down at Derek with half-lidded eyes and a sultry smirk.

“Fuck,” Derek panted out, already squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of lust flooding through his veins. Somehow he managed to huff out a laugh, “Thought you were tired.”

Fumbling with the small cream buttons on his shirt, Stiles lunged forward to kiss Derek, plunging his tongue into his boyfriend’s mouth to properly taste him, melding their lips together. Pulling back a fraction to breathe, Stiles panted, “M’never too tired for you, babe.”

Feeling oddly smug about ranking higher on Stiles’ list of priorities than even sleep, Derek smiled against Stiles’ lips as he reeled him in closer for another kiss, this one with more finesse, not content until Stiles’ hands were buried in his hair, gripping a handful at the base of Derek’s head. Stiles continued rocking his hips leisurely, letting Derek finish unbuttoning his shirt, brushing his knuckles over Stiles’ pert nipples.

Smiling wickedly, Stiles pulled back to look at Derek from under his dark eyelashes, mischief bright in his eyes. Derek swallowed heavily in preparation for whatever Stiles was plotting, hands returning to Stiles’ hips. Stiles flicked the snap of his handcuff holster open, tugging out his handcuffs, letting them hang on his finger almost casually, brandishing them with all the cool confidence of an experienced officer of the law as he asked in a devastatingly sultry voice, “You wanna break these bad boys in?”

Surging up to claim Stiles’ mouth in another fierce, breathtaking kiss, Derek squeezed Stiles’ hips and eagerly nodded, dutifully answering, “Yes sir, Mr. Officer.”

Stiles was quick and succinct about cuffing Derek’s wrists together after ridding him of his tank top, stretching his arms up above his head, hooking the chain of the handcuffs over a carved knob of wood in their ornate mahogany headboard that Derek had insisted on getting when he had seen it in Target. With Derek’s arms comfortably raised over his head and safely secured on the headboard with a smile on his lips, Stiles leaned back to admire his handiwork.

Derek’s impressively muscled chest, dusted with a bloom of dark hair, was heaving steadily, drawing Stiles’ hawk-like eyes to his dark nipples. His hair was a mess of tousled black, mussed from Stiles’ less than restrained ministrations, falling over his brow and darkening his brow. His eyes were more pupil than iris, merely a dab of black rimmed by a halo of kaleidoscopic hazel. A light sheen of sweat was already dotting his forehead.

Altogether, Derek certainly made a pretty picture all spread out for Stiles.

Stiles shrugged his tan uniform shirt off before ripping his own white tank top off and tossing it aside, not caring where it ended up, having much more important things to think about. Derek’s eyes hungrily drank in the beautiful sight, eyes flitting over the porcelain skin of Stiles’ chest, stretched taut over lean muscle.

Any other time Derek would have already tackled Stiles onto the mattress in impatience and had his wicked way with him, pure predatory hunger in his intermittently red eyes. But Derek wasn’t the predator. No, tonight he was the prey. And Stiles was very, very hungry.

Derek could smell the arousal wafting off Stiles, so intense it nearly made him dizzy. He ached to touch Stiles, to grip his hips and control the pace of their leisurely grinding, but he couldn’t. Well, not without breaking the handcuffs and completely ruining the mood. Derek highly doubted Stiles would be too happy about having to explain to his father just how his department issued handcuffs had been broken and why he needed a pair of replacement cuffs.

Derek wasn’t too keen on having to sleep on the couch, either. He had paid good money for a Tempur-Pedic mattress, after all.

Sensing Derek’s dissatisfaction with the situation, infuriatingly perceptive sometimes, Stiles snickered, planting his hands on Derek’s chest for leverage as he began swirling his hips in a torturous rhythm. Derek hissed through his clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and thrashing his head back, unintentionally arching his back and thrusting his hips up, jostling Stiles.

Stiles tutted, tapping the tip of Derek’s nose with his index finger, pouting down at him. He gently chastised, “Uh, uh, uh, baby. I’m in charge tonight.”

Had those words been uttered by anyone else, Derek would have been livid, enraged that someone was trying to exert power over him. _He_ was the alpha, damn it. But coming from Stiles they only instilled a deep sense of calm acquiescence, a soothing balm flowing over him.

With Stiles he didn’t have to worry. About anything. Stiles loved taking care of people, especially Derek. And if that predilection for taking care of Derek extended to the bedroom, well so be it. Pleasant surprises were always appreciated.

Derek gazed up at Stiles apologetically, hoping he looked genuinely contrite enough to satisfy Stiles who tenderly caressed his stubbled cheek, pressing quick kisses to the tip of Derek’s nose and the center of his forehead. Drawing back, Stiles began dragging the zipper of his pants down, slipping the button out of its hole, Derek’s eyes riveted to the sight.

Slowly, just to torture Derek, Stiles started tugging his pants down, revealing the waistband of the black boxer briefs he had pilfered from Derek’s drawer that morning with the express intent to drive him absolutely wild. It had the intended effect: Derek’s nostrils flared, his eyes flashing red for a moment, as he soaked in the scent of them both, mixed together in the most intoxicating bouquet he had ever smelled.

Rising to his knees, lifting his bottom off of Derek’s groin, giving them both some time to come back from the edge, Stiles started shimmying out of his pants, climbing out of bed to rid himself of his pants. He was about to climb back into bed when something caught his eyes and he paused. With a smirk spreading across his lips and mischief brightening his eyes, he gently but firmly instructed, “Close your eyes, Derek. I have a plan.”

Derek obediently shut his eyes, listening intently for a clue of what exactly Stiles was up to. A rustle of fabric was his only clue before he had a lapful of Stiles and a mouth by his ear, huskily whispering, “Open your eyes, babe.”

He did. And the sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat.

Above him, comfortably perched on his thighs, was Stiles, wearing nothing but Derek’s boxer briefs, a wide smile, and his uniform shirt. He had simply slipped the shirt back on over his shoulders, leaving it completely unbuttoned to show off his leanly sculpted chest and abs, his dusky pink nipples. His badge and nameplate were still pinned to his chest, glinting in the low light of their bedroom.

Stiles looked like a dirty cop. Not the kind that accepted bribes and did drugs behind the boss’ back, but the kind in porn flicks that kept spouting out dreadful police puns while they get roughly fucked in makeshift jail cell sets. And Stiles definitely looked like he needed to be well fucked. All that was missing was the terrible cop dialogue.

Which of course meant that Stiles chose that precise moment to lean forward and quip, “I think I’m gonna have to frisk you. Make sure you’re not concealing a dangerous weapon.”

Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ poor attempt at what he probably thought was dirty talk, only to clench them shut when Stiles ground the heel of his hand against Derek’s erection through the layers of the comforter and Derek’s underwear. Laughing quietly at Derek’s reaction, Stiles continued, “Mmm… Definitely gonna have to give you a strip search, too.”

Shuffling back, Stiles whipped the comforter off Derek’s lap, flinging it to the empty side of the mattress, out of the way but close enough for inevitable post-coital cuddling. He raked his eyes down Derek’s body, drinking in the sight of the tanned Adonis in his bed, and more specifically, the prominent bulge that made itself quite known in his Under Armour boxer briefs.

Knee-walking closer, Stiles cupped Derek through his boxer briefs, delicately kneading his cock through the thin cotton. Derek couldn’t help the moan that clawed its way up its throat, serenading Stiles with evidence of the effectiveness of his efforts to drive Derek crazy, prompting him to remark, “Oh, yeah. Gonna have to charge you with illegal concealed carrying.”

Through his grit teeth, Derek managed to snark back, “I thought you could handle dangerous weapons, officer.”

Raising his eyebrows in acceptance of the challenge Derek had issued, Stiles barked out a startled laugh, leaning closer to murmur, “Ooh… Now you’re really gonna get it, you little delinquent.”

Derek couldn’t wait.

Stiles slid back down Derek’s legs, raised up on his knees so as to not put his full weight on Derek’s shins, despite the fact that Derek could more than handle all one hundred and forty seven pounds of Stiles. Bending over, his back arching in a delectable slope, he continued groping Derek through his boxer briefs, angling his head down beside his hand to waft hot air over him, watching his cock twitch through the fabric. Derek panted at the mere sight.

Stiles looked like a starving man, hungry for only one thing. And that just so happened to be Derek’s cock.

Pulling back a tiny bit, Stiles moved his hands to Derek’s waist, tugging down his boxer briefs and watching as Derek’s cock bobbed and slapped heavily against his belly, leaving a few pearly drops of precum in the dark trail of hair leading down from his navel. Stiles hummed appreciatively at the sight as he tugged the boxer briefs down the rest of Derek’s hairy legs, licking his lips in blatant interest.

Had anyone else been ogling Derek like that, he would have growled and kneed them in the stomach, but when Stiles did he didn’t feel objectified or violated. No, he felt powerful and sexy and wanted. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling for him which was why Stiles never failed to blatantly undress him with his eyes whenever he was given the opportunity.

Crouching down again tossing Derek’s underwear aside, Stiles wrapped his hand around the base of Derek’s cock, pumping it slowly. Looking up at him, under his eyelashes, Stiles announced, “Yeah… You’re definitely gonna need a permit for this.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, having to give Stiles credit for staying in character when he had a cock in his hand, as Derek’s mind had gone to mush the second Stiles laid a finger on him. He kept pumping his hand, stroking Derek from root to tip, sliding the palm of his hand over the uncut head, smearing more and more precum over his hand to further smoothen its glide.

Building up a steady rhythm, he inched forward the slightest bit to sedately lick the tip of Derek’s cock, tonguing the slit the way he knew Derek loved. Wrapping his lips around the head of his cock, foreskin pulled back to give him better access, Stiles continued pumping his hand, twisting his wrist occasionally for some variety.

Derek keened. The combination of Stiles’ wet, talented mouth around the sensitive head of his cock and his skillful hand at work along the length was too much on a regular day but being handcuffed and indulged in his newfound kink for Stiles in uniform, things were going to be over embarrassingly fast.

Moving his free hand from Derek’s thigh to his balls, Stiles gave a very, very gentle squeeze, grinning around the dick in his mouth when Derek gasped and thrashed around a bit, another moan slipping out of his lips. Derek was internally berating himself for already being a centimeter away from coming when Stiles, the sneaky little devil, pulled off.

Suddenly, Stiles wasn’t touching him at all save for a steadying hand on his outer thigh. On edge, Derek practically whimpered, whining greedily when Stiles pulled away, desperately blabbering, “No, no, no, no, no…”

Stiles smirked and rubbed a soothing hand over his thigh, squeezing reassuringly as he rose up again, fingers skimming around the waistband of his borrowed boxer briefs. Derek’s eyes were fixated on the teasing dance of Stiles’ fingers, watching with rapt interest when his fingertips dipped under the waistband, dragging the black cotton down to his knees, freeing his own painfully hard cock.

Derek licked his lips instinctively before again remembering that he was not the predator that night. Stiles was. They both knew it. And for once, Derek didn’t mind being the prey.

After standing to kick his underwear off, Stiles walked on his knees to sit on Derek’s lower abdomen, cock resting on his sculpted abs. He leaned down to peck Derek on the lips, whispering against his cheek, “Now, I’m gonna finger myself open and you’re just gonna lay back and watch because it looks like you’re a little tied up right now.”

Groaning at both the horrible pun and the new look-don’t-touch policy that seemed to have been instated, Derek tossed his head around on his pillow. Stiles took the opportunity to pepper a trail of kisses down Derek’s throat, teasingly nipping at a straining tendon or two.

He turned to rifle through their nightstand in search of lube, giving Derek a perfect view of his delectable ass. Derek didn’t realize it was intentional until Stiles started swaying his hips as he plucked a quarter empty bottle of lube out of the drawer, glancing over his shoulder back at Derek, blinking coquettishly in false innocence, prompting Derek to pout.

Stiles cooed and pressed kisses all over Derek’s face, scattering them over his forehead, his cheeks, his temples, his chin, and even his ear, avoiding Derek’s lips until the very last moment when he deeply kissed, cradling his face in his hands. Laying another kiss on Derek’s nose, he panted, “Can’t wait to have you inside me, baby.”

Derek nipped at Stiles’ lips in retaliation, his cock throbbing at the words. Stiles smirked, feeling extraordinarily confident, much more so than usual. Seeing how wide Derek’s pupils were blown made him puff out his chest and straighten his shoulders, cheekily asking, “So? Where do you want me?”

Derek growled, “Underneath me.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, throwing his head back and actually clutching his belly. Derek was less than amused yet still smiling wryly. He couldn’t help it, hearing Stiles laugh and knowing he was the sole cause of it was like a balm to his soul, assuring him that he could still do good things.

“Oh, baby… Don’t worry. You’ll be able to fuck my ass soon enough,” Stiles promised as he squirted a generous dab of lube on his fingers. He reached his arm around his back and began rubbing at his furled hole, liberally applying the cool lube to his pucker, tapping his hole with the pad of his finger. Index finger thoroughly coated in thick lube, he began pumping it into himself, moaning at the familiar stretch.

As he started moving his finger inside himself, a second quickly joining the first, Derek was torn between asking his boyfriend to turn so he could watch him fuck himself on his fingers or just keep watching the beautiful, erotic expressions on his gorgeous face. Both were tempting, extremely tempting. But the latter won out as there was nothing Derek loved more than seeing Stiles’ eyes blown wide in pleasure.

Derek raptly watched as Stiles fingered himself, Stiles watching him in turn, maintaining heated eye contact throughout. Stiles’ groans and keens gradually turned more husky, more broken as time went on, scissoring his fingers inside himself as Derek, emboldened by Stiles’ enthusiasm, demanded, “Add a finger.”

“I’m-I’m a four!” Stiles cried out, his hips starting to mindlessly thrust forward, chasing friction on the comforter, and back, to drive his fingers deeper inside of himself. “And remember, babe: I’m in charge tonight.”

His claim was effectively undermined by the choked gasp that immediately followed. Derek smirked. Looked like someone found their prostate.

Stiles’ eyes had just begun to roll back into his head when he abruptly stopped, pulling his fingers out of himself and immediately straddling Derek’s lap, impatiently slathering his cock in lube so fast Derek nearly got whiplash. He was about to ask if Stiles was sure but stopped himself. Stiles may be a tad headstrong but he was always sure, no matter if it was about how well he had prepared himself for sex or punching a werewolf in the face.

It was one of the things he both loved and hated about Stiles. Loved, mostly, of course.

Stiles firmly planted both hands on Derek’s chest and began ruthlessly grinding his bare ass against Derek’s well-lubed cock before reaching back and guiding the head of Derek’s cock to his stretched rim. The very second the thick head slipped inside him, Stiles threw his head back and moaned wantonly, loud enough that Derek reflected on how grateful he was that they didn’t have neighbors. He didn’t want anyone else to hear Stiles’ sultry moan. They were just for Derek.

Besides, it would be rather traumatizing, not to mention embarrassing as all hell, if the Sheriff had to answer a noise complaint only to catch his son having sex with his boyfriend. Especially when his son was still partially in his uniform while riding his boyfriend who was handcuffed and bound to the headboard.

Both Derek and Stiles clenched their eyes shut, Derek gritting his teeth and Stiles opening his mouth in another moan, as Stiles sunk down completely until Derek was fully seated inside him. Taking a moment to catch their breaths, they opened their eyes slowly to look at each other, Derek unable to resist teasing, “Hey, officer.”

Stiles simply smirked and returned his hand to Derek’s chest, leaving sticky traces of lube in his chest hair as he leaned forward just enough to give Derek a quick, bruising kiss. Straightening up, groan under his breath, Stiles snarked back, “Hmmm… I’ll show you just how much I can handle dangerous weapons.”

He watched with perverse satisfaction as Derek’s irises were engulfed by his dilated pupils. Then, he started to move.

Rather than start with gentle swirls of his hips as he usually did when he rode Derek, he immediately started bouncing up and down the length of Derek’s cock, chewing his lip to keep from screaming at the top of his lungs at how unbelievably good it felt. Derek was completely taken aback, by both Stiles’ actions and the onslaught of sensations he was suddenly experiencing.

It was amazing. Stiles was hot and tight around him, every ripple of movement, every slide of their skin together feeling like heaven. Sacrilegious sex was always his favorite.

Derek whimpered as Stiles increased his pace, wanting nothing more than to grip Stiles’ waist and guide his movement, wanting to wrap his hand around Stiles’ thus far neglected cock and jerk him off to the rhythm of their hips, wanting to make him feel as good as he felt. But instead, he just laid as still as he possibly could and let take what he needed from him, admiring the intriguing play of flexing muscles in his abdomen as he rode Derek, his cock bouncing against his stomach, head leaking droplets of precum Derek ached to taste.

He split his time between gazing up at Stiles’ totally blissed out expression, eyes closed with mouth wide open in a long drawn out moan, and eyeing the growing precum on his own abs, both his and Stiles’ mixing together on his skin, the scent driving him insane with need. But after awhile the sensations became too much for him to bear, tossing his head back and closing his eyes to focus on how fucking good Stiles felt around him, like he was made just for him, all hot and tight and smooth.

Room filled with the sounds of Stiles’ addictive moans and the slap of their slick skin together, Derek couldn’t resist being a little disobedient: he was playing the part of a criminal, after all. Bending his knees, he planted his feet on the bed for enough leverage so he could start thrusting up into Stiles with short, deep jabs, startling a high-pitched whine out of him, bending forward to rest his forehead on the back of his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

To Derek’s moderate surprise, Stiles made no snarky comeback or police pun, too overcome by pleasure to string any coherent words together, still gyrating his hips as Derek continued his quick thrusts. Lifting his head to press his temple against Stiles’ cheek, he panted into his ear, “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Stiles whimpered in his ear, tightening his grip on Derek’s shoulders, and continued pumping his hip, cock rubbing against the ridges of Derek’s abs, giving him a teasing touch of friction that just wasn’t enough to drive him over the edge. Fortunately, he had already found his prostate, twirling his hips in a wicked corkscrew spiral, the movement dragging the blunt head of Derek’s cock against that little bundle of nerves with every move.

With Derek thrusting up into him, it wasn’t very long at all until Stiles was stilling atop him, hips stuttering to a stop as he came, spilling over both he and Derek’s stomachs, eyes closing as he cried out his release. Derek followed suit mere seconds later, thrusting up into Stiles a few more times before emptying himself inside him, groaning against his sweaty skin.

Luckily, Stiles had the presence of mind to undo the handcuffs and toss them over his shoulder onto the floor by his shoes before flopping onto his side, completely exhausted, chest heaving as he panted shallowly. Derek immediately rolled over after him, setting his freed hands on Stiles’ waist and dragging his tongue over Stiles’ belly to collect the drops of cum splattered over his skin, rumbling deep in his chest at the taste.

Stiles hummed lazily as Derek slipped his uniform shirt off and tugged the comforter over them, burying his face in the pillow as Derek curled his arms around his shoulders, nuzzling his own face into Stiles’ hair, breathing in the heady scent of his contentment. And as Stiles seamlessly drifted off to well-deserved sleep, absolutely exhausted, Derek smiled softly at the beautiful sight that made his heart swell.

Yeah, Stiles looked good everything, but he looked best in Derek’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come find me on Tumblr: [hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)


End file.
